


Empty Chairs at Empty Tables

by notimmortal



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: And Alexander is not okay, Angst, Gen, John Laurens is dead, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 20:46:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13372758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notimmortal/pseuds/notimmortal
Summary: Oh my friend, my friend don't ask me what you're sacrifice was for. Empty chairs at empty tables where my friends will sing no more.





	Empty Chairs at Empty Tables

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO ALL
> 
> If you have read any of my past few fics, you may know that I'm not in a great headspace right now, but I'm not letting that stop me so here is a new Hamilton fic with less self-projection but more angst.

Alexander had work to do. He had so much work to do.

 

So why was he sitting in the back of an empty bar?

 

He was very lucky that the barkeep liked him. When Alexander came by after closing, distress and tears all over his face, the barkeep let him in and told him to take the time he needed. It was as if he knew. He must’ve known.

 

John Laurens was dead.

 

It was in this very room that Alexander had met John. The Revolution new and bright, with John singing drunkenly about their future freedom. He was spurred on by Hercules and Lafayette, not wavering even when Burr tried to put him down. 

 

John Laurens was light. He was caring. He was the future.

 

And now he’s dead.

 

Alexander looked around the barroom. The grief he felt, unspoken to even his wife, was seeping into the room. And how could it not? The pain had penetrated deep, going on and on in Alexander’s entire person.

 

Empty chairs at empty tables. John Laurens was dead and gone.

 

Here he sang about the future he would never get to see, the tomorrow that never came. He could see a world reborn, his voice, his passion, his beliefs ringing throughout the room. Alexander could almost hear them still.

 

John Laurens had died without his friends near. Without Alexander near. 

 

A sob broke the silence in the room, as Alexander finally started to speak. “Oh my friend. My friend forgive me. For I live and you are gone.”

 

Alexander looked around the room once more. Out of the corner of his eye, he could’ve sworn he saw a figure. He turned to see the phantom face of John Laurens. All Alexander wanted to do was run up and hug him, but he knew better. It was just a trick of his mind.

 

Yet Alexander could hear him speak.

 

“Where were you when I needed you, Alexander?” the not-John asked. “Why weren’t you there with me? Was it worth it in the end, Alexander? Was my death what was needed?”

 

“Oh my friend, my friend don’t ask me what you’re sacrifice was for,” Alexander sobbed out to the man who wasn’t even there. “Look around, John. Empty chairs at empty tables where we will meet no more. Where we will sing no more. Where we will be no more. I lived, John. And I don’t know why so don’t ask me, please, I’m begging you,” Alexander fell to his knees, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

 

That was how the barkeep found him, twenty minutes later: on his knees, begging for forgiveness from someone who wasn’t there. The barkeep knelt down next to Alexander, “I think it’s time to get you home, Mr. Hamilton.”

 

Alexander stood on shaky legs, nodding and mumbling a thank you to the barkeep. It was time to return home, to leave John Laurens behind.

 

He had so much work to do.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated but never required.
> 
> I'm in the middle of doing a bunch of one draft fics for the sake of my mental health. If anyone would like to leave a suggestion in the comments or on my tumblr (ireallyneedabetterusername), it would be fully appreciated.


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